


snowflakes in autumn

by faikitty



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Chronic Pain, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty
Summary: Smoke and steel, magic and might; a series of drabbles and ficlets for Kurogane and Fai. Most requested, some created. Always ongoing.





	1. nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I accumulated enough brief plot bunnies and half-assed "fics" on my Curious Cat and through convos with friends that I wound up turning it into this collection of oneshots. Tags will be added+deleted as I see fit, and warnings/ratings will be updated as needed (it'll never go above M for this, though).
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to my darling beta, Freddie, for saving me when my ADHD mind goes too fast for my fingers. Special thanks also to Thie, who helped me with the title and is always there when I need a friend. HMU on Twitter (faikittyy) or Curious Cat (faikitty) with any requests, suggestions, or just to chat and hang out.

Kurogane is no stranger to nightmares.

His first was years ago, back before he could even remember it. All he remembers is faint images: a monster with glowing red eyes and sharp teeth, a sound like screaming wind in his ears, a rush of blackness on his eyelids. He remembers the aftermath too: his mother’s warm voice sleepily asking him if he was okay, his father’s firm shoulder catching his tears, the touch of both of his parents firm on his back as they soothed him back toward sleep.

After his parents died, the nightmares changed.

No longer were they rare occurrences. No longer were they just the active imagination of a young child’s mind. Instead, they came weekly, in the form of memories relived. They were nothing but visceral agony—dream of death, of destruction, of crimson blood and charcoal smoke and a sensation of burning, in his throat, on the backs of his eyelids, so intense it seems to strip him to his nerves, fire and flame and pain.

Those dreams follow him into adulthood, and they always end in exactly the same way. Kurogane is alive; his parents are dead.

Then, one night, they don’t.

Kurogane is clutching his mother’s body, Ginryû in his free hand, when the nightmare shift. Dream logic keeps Kurogane from registering that something is wrong when the burning shifts to freezing and the sight changes from black to white. He blinks, and the forms morph.

The body he grips is no longer his mother’s.

It’s Fai’s.

Fai is alive, still, but his magic swirls around him, collapsing Celes around him. Kurogane grabs at his wrist as the roar of catastrophe soon to come echoes in his ears. He won’t let Fai go—he refuses to let Fai go. Desperation floods his veins; it spills out with blood that gushes dark from the ragged wound in his side, but he doesn’t drop Fai’s arm, not even when the circle of magic that seeks to cut Fai off from the world threatens to take Kurogane’s hand with it.

They’ve exhausted all of their options. Fai has cast his spell, Yuuko has played her trump card, and still, still, Fai is trapped in the imploding sphere of his own magic. Kurogane is shaking as he holds tight to Fai’s wrist—shaking from pain or panic, not even he knows. Kurogane grits his teeth. He tightens his grip.

“Go,” Fai tells him. His mouth is scarlet from the blood he coughed free from his lungs, and his eye is dark, its bright blue dimmed. But he doesn’t look regretful; he looks tired.

He looks accepting.

This time, there is no Tomoyo to tell Kurogane how to save Fai.

* * *

 

Kurogane wakes with a gasp.

He’s strangled at first, his lungs filled with adrenaline and the remnants of his nightmare. He can’t see, he can’t hear, and all he feels is blankets suffocatingly close around him. The room is too dark for even his night-trained eyes to pick out any shapes, so he turns to his body and focuses on steadying his breathing. He exhales slowly to try to calm the frantic beating of his heart and erase the taste of copper from his mouth where it leaped upon his awakening. His other senses return slowly—first hearing, then touch, his heartbeat rapid enough in his ears to blot out all other sounds.

Tears stain his cheeks; they must have fallen while he was asleep. He scrubs them away, frustration overtaking the adrenaline in his veins, and as the pounding of his heart stills, he finds something—someone—weighted heavily against his ribs. That someone shifts and offers a sleepy, confused, “Kuro-tan?” and Kurogane realizes—

It’s Fai.

“Are you okay?” Fai whispers, lifting his head to blink bleary-eyed confusion at him. His hand rests on Kurogane’s chest, and his pulse, steady and alive, surges rhythmically and sleep-slow through Kurogane’s skin. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Kurogane starts, but his voice is still unsteady with the aftertaste of his nightmare. Fai’s gaze goes more focused as he blinks, and Kurogane shifts, turning onto his side to face away, Fai’s fingers still loose against his chest. “I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

“About your parents?” Fai asks softly.

“Yeah.” Kurogane hesitates. The words he wants to say—and doesn’t want to say—stuck in the back of his throat. He takes a breath, and they spill forth. “And you.”

Fai doesn’t respond, but his fingers curl tighter against Kurogane’s chest. Kurogane feels Fai’s eyes on him and knows, just from knowing Fai, that they must be sad.

That look of pity—it’s exactly what Kurogane wanted to avoid. It’s why Kurogane hates when Fai knows he’s had a nightmare. Kurogane doesn’t need Fai’s pity. He doesn’t need his sympathy. They’re just nightmares—nothing more, nothing less. The mage, of all people, should know that.

Yet it’s _because_ Fai knows that that Kurogane can’t bring himself to protest when Fai murmurs a gentle, affectionate nickname and kisses the tears salt-dried to his cheek. “It’s okay,” Fai soothes, settling in behind him, fingers spreading over Kurogane’s chest as he presses his lips to the back of Kurogane’s neck. “It wasn’t real.”

Kurogane wants to snap that he knows it’s okay; he knows it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare.

He can’t bring himself to.

Kurogane closes his eyes instead. He must still be half-asleep, because the heat of another tear trickles over his nose and drops onto the pillow by his cheek. “I just…” His voice falters along with his thoughts, and when he speaks again, he’s quiet. “I don’t want to lose you too.” He offers no complaint. He offers no grumbling insult, no huffed excuse: just honesty, plain and simple.

“You won’t,” Fai says softly, lips brushing lightly over Kurogane’s neck. He offers nothing more than honesty either, and Kurogane believes him, the proof evident through Fai’s pulse, steady and familiar, and the very warmth of his body. They both serve as a constant reminder that Fai is still among the living. “I’m here.”

Kurogane nods. Fai is right; Fai is alive. He wouldn’t be able to say as much if he weren’t. The dream was just that—just a dream, just the falsehoods of an active imagination, of an adult with more to draw upon than a child. It’s just a dream, because Kurogane saved Fai.

The nightmares can do their worst.

Kurogane will always wake up next to Fai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter brought to you by catiacchi's fanart, which you can see here: https://twitter.com/Catiacchi/status/1110932931357347840


	2. domesticity

“No,” Kurogane says immediately, reclining on the couch with a book in his hands and his stomach full. “I made dinner. You can do the dishes.”

Fai frowns at him from the kitchen. “It hurts my hands though,” he whines. “The water is too hot.”

“Then make the water _cooler_ ,” Kurogane suggests dismissively, flipping a page of his book.

“I can’t make it _hot_ enough to kill germs and _cool_ enough to not hurt me,” Fai complains, but he flicks on the faucet, plugs the drain, and starts to pile the dishes into the sink. “When my hands are burnt to a crisp, you’ll just have to do everything for me!” he calls over the rush of the water.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurogane agrees absentmindedly. He’s met with a series of clattering, followed by a sharp, exaggerated hiss as Fai puts his hands into the water. He rolls his eyes, and he can almost _hear_ Fai’s pout. The water shuts off. Kurogane smells soap in the air, artificial scents and chemicals that are light and bubbly.

Then he hears another clatter of ceramic. “Ow,” Fai mutters, his voice quiet enough that Kurogane doubts he was meant to hear it.

Kurogane lifts his gaze to see Fai wring extra water out of the sponge in his hands and run it over the plate before dropping it again with a short hiss. Fai no longer looks like he’s exaggerating his pain; he just looks _frustrated_. He takes a deep breath and submerges his arm into the sink up the elbow to fish out a spoon, dropping it onto the countertop so he can flick water off his wrist. He picks it up with a sigh, biting his lip as he dips the sponge back into the hot water and scrubs at it, and Kurogane can’t take it anymore.

“Move,” Kurogane grumbles, throwing down his book so he can rise and shove Fai out of the way. Fai stumbles back and stares at him in surprise as Kurogane ducks his hands into the water, utterly immune to the heat that has turned Fai’s pale arms pink. “I’ll do the dishes. Go take care of your hands. It’s fine.”

Fai blinks at him, hot water dripping from his fingertips; then his face softens into a fond smile. “Kuro-tan is so considerate,” he teases. He wipes his hands on a nearby towel as Kurogane easily brushes a sponge over the dishes in his hands. “I’ll dry if you wash,” Fai suggests, fitting a hand to the small of Kurogane’s back and leaning over the sink.

Kurogane rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine,” he agrees.

The water may be hot on his hands, but Fai’s kiss, soft against his cheek, is hotter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt credit to an anon on CC who wanted Fai having sensitive hands and needing Kurogane to do the dishes; and, like, mood


	3. seasons

Fai loves summer.

He loves the heat, the humidity, the steady sunlight beating down on him and turning his light skin dark. He’s still pale compared to Kurogane, but for the first time in his life, his cells know the taste of sunlight and they revel in it. He wants to absorb the sun entirely and perhaps even become a small star himself, because the crackle of heat in his veins makes him feel alive. Even when the heat becomes too much and escapes his body as sweat, he doesn’t mind. The wind carries away the sweat and leaves salt dried on his skin, and when he kisses Kurogane on those summer days he tastes that same salt on the corners of Kurogane’s mouth, his lips sun-hot and sparking heat through Fai’s tongue. Cicadas sound over the heartbeat in his ears, and their buzzing may have kept him awake at first but by the end of the summer he can no longer sleep without it. He spends each night tucked in against Kurogane, even when it’s too hot for sheets, for clothes, for anything but skin-to-skin contact and too hot even for _that_ , really, but Kurogane doesn’t complain and Fai doesn’t pull away.

When the days extend to their zenith and grow so warm that even Fai is overwhelmed by them, Kurogane shows him how to enjoy the summer still. He takes Fai out once the sun has set and lies with him in the grass, the lights of Shirasagi Castle far behind them. All Fai hears is cicadas and crickets and his own pulse, vibrant and loud in his wrist as Kurogane’s thumb brushes over it. Beneath him, there is only damp grass, only dewdrops seeping into his clothes, and above him, only starlight, only planets and fossil light reaching the same skin that was touched by the sun mere hours before. The night grows cold, and when Fai shivers, Kurogane draws him in close, one hand weighted over his stomach as Fai rests his head against his chest and breathes in honeysuckle and the familiar scent that is Kurogane.

* * *

 

The first brisk day is nice.

The sun still warms Fai’s skin, and the gentle breeze nips at him affectionately. The colder weather gives him an excuse to snuggle up close to Kurogane each night, as if there is any change in their affection toward one another from before. Fai makes warmer meals of broths and meats; Kurogane eats them gladly, and when he wraps his arms around Fai, he eats Fai’s laughter too with a smile and never once protests its sweetness.

Then the plants start to die.

The leaves begin to change their colors to red and gold and orange, sunsetting brilliance of the very heat that the air now lacks. They cling tightly to their branches, only a few tumbling to the ground at Fai’s feet as he walks. Each day, a few more give up their hold, until suddenly it is no longer a _few_ leaves at Fai’s feet but rather _hundreds_. Fai’s hands shake as he picks one up and studies its spiked edges, running his fingers over its rough veins before crumpling it in his hand and letting the ashes fall to the earth. The plants are dying, the air is cold, and autumn is no longer something to be enjoyed.

“They do this,” Kurogane reminds him later when Fai expresses his concerns. “Trees here lose their leaves in the fall. They come back during the spring.”

“How do you know they’ll return?”

“Because they always do.”

* * *

 

Fai doesn’t leave and return in the spring. He stays in Nihon, but some piece of him disappears along with the dying of the trees.

Winter is less dreary in Nihon than in Celes, the skies less cloudy and gray, the temperatures less bone-chillingly cold. Valeria and Celes were grayscale landscapes with small patches of color like static on an old television, the rainbow visible for only a split second before vanishing once more into nothingness.

Nihon is not Valeria; it still has people in it, _living_ people, who catch Fai’s elbow as he heads mindlessly throughout his day and ask him if he’s okay, people who frown at his lies when he insists that he is. There is no mad king here but rather a princess, small and soft-spoken with bright eyes observant. She offers Fai kind smiles and light touches and is there for him on nights that are too long, too cold, too dark, when Fai can’t bring himself to tell Kurogane why the cold and the dark make him feel like he’s back in the places he escaped from.

 Nihon is not Celes; it still exists, wasn’t swallowed up by his own magic, and the only beast that lives in Nihon is the man who spends each night by Fai’s side, who has as much blood on his hands as Ashura but who has never once killed an innocent. Kurogane keeps Fai safe, keeps him warm, and even though he can’t protect Fai from the memories that make each long night longer, he can serve as a reminder that Fai isn’t alone anymore. When Fai wakes and finds himself back in Celes, blinking unfocused against the darkness as his misted breath spirals from his mouth like everything else in this country, Kurogane gathers him up into his arms without being asked and holds him close until Fai’s rapid beating heart no longer strains at his throat and Fai remembers that he is in Nihon.

Nihon is not Valeria. Nihon is not Celes. Nihon is Fai’s _home_.

The winter feels less dark and lonesome than it once did.

* * *

 

Spring, Fai has decided, is his favorite season.

His vision grows less gray and transforms into pink and green instead, sakura blossoms flowering bright all around him and grass sprouting up beneath his feet. His gaze becomes a whirlwind of colors, all mixing together in a kaleidoscope of rainbow that Fai smiles to see. The sky edges cautiously from gloomy gray into brilliant blue, and once it realizes it is no longer too cold to allow for rain, it drops all of the water it has ever stored. It _pours_ , but Fai doesn’t mind even that; he relishes the feeling of the droplets against his skin and laughs as his bare toes squish into the mud, a wild grin on his face as Kurogane rolls his eyes at him and watches from the safe, dry doorway of their home. Fai grabs his wrist and drags him out into the rain, ignoring Kurogane’s shouts of protest, because Kurogane may be yelling at him but he isn’t fighting him.

“You’re an idiot,” Kurogane huffs as the rain tumbles down around them, but his hands have gone to Fai’s waist to pull him close and his eyes have gone gentle with the fond smile that snuck onto his face when he wasn’t paying attention.

Fai doesn’t argue; he doesn’t say _anything_ , just laughs and kisses Kurogane’s cheek while the rain lifts the scent of hyacinths and petrichor all around them. He holds out his hand, water pooling in his life-marred palm, and as he curls his fingertips into the water Kurogane takes his hand and presses a soft kiss to his furled fingers, the heat of his lips reminding Fai of summer and all the years to come.


	4. pain

Kurogane’s shoulder hurts tonight.

That isn’t a surprise; his shoulder _always_ hurts. It always _will_. He has other old injuries that always hurt too: the bump on his wrist where the bone he broke as a child healed poorly, the knee that was knocked out of place with such force that it now clicks when he kneels, the massive scar on his right side from their battle with Ashura that tugs at his ribs whenever he takes too deep a breath. He’s used to being in constant pain by now.

His shoulder is different.

When Kurogane first awoke in Nihon, Princess Tomoyo warned him that his shoulder would always cause him pain regardless of how well-made his prosthesis was. Even _without_ the prosthetic limb, Kurogane knows the pain wouldn’t be gone, only changed, because Tomoyo warned him about _that_ too. Kurogane’s shoulder will always hurt, will always be stiff, will always be infected by tendrils of scar tissue that lock the joint in place. His _arm_ hurts sometimes too. It isn’t the prosthetic limb that feels the pain, because it _can’t_. It’s his arm itself, even though it no longer exists, because his mind will never be able to fully comprehend the loss of a limb and tries to fill in the lack of real feelings with imagined ones.

Kurogane’s shoulder hurts tonight, as always, and although it isn’t a surprise, it’s _frustrating_.

The pain invades Kurogane’s dreams until he feels it permeate his core, and although the dreams leave when he wakes, the pain only grows worse. It becomes all-consuming and suffocating as it radiates from his shoulder through his chest, his ribs straining under the weight of the wound and his struggled breaths. He throws the sheets off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

Kurogane leans over his knees and grips his shoulder with his free hand, the one that can _feel_ the scar tissue solid around the swollen joint. Holding his shoulder does nothing to stop the pain, but some base instinct tells him to do so and so he does. His fingers shake as they tighten around the joint, digging small crescent-shaped marks of red into his skin and on the edges of the scar tissue, jagged yet smooth. When he presses his thumb in against it, it shifts slightly, a sensation that is almost more disturbing than the pain.

Kurogane’s breathing wants to come short and shallow, sharp inhales and quick exhales, but he doesn’t let it. He breathes _hard_ , but he breathes deep, because this pain seeks to drown him and the only way to stay afloat is to keep his lungs filled with air. The pain does its best to shove him back under; he fights it tooth and claw.

The room is too hot and too cold at the same time. Kurogane feels like he’s burning even as a chill rushes through him. He shivers despite himself, and the jerking motion jars his shoulder and makes him bite down hard on a breath to hold back a pained sound. He can’t stay in here; he needs to go walk, or read, or something, _anything_ , to distract from this pain.

Kurogane is about to stand when a hand catches his arm. He glances back to see Fai.

Fai’s tired eyes are questioning and concerned. His brows knit together in worry as he takes in Kurogane’s drawn face, his overly controlled breathing, the way Kurogane’s arm is shaking slightly beneath his touch. It takes a moment for Fai to piece together the problem. When he does, he frowns and sits up in bed, letting his hand fall away from Kurogane’s arm.

“Is your prosthesis bothering you?” Fai asks quietly as he folds his legs up beneath him.

“No, it’s—” Kurogane starts, but Fai’s concern turns to exasperation and his expression _dares_ Kurogane to lie to him. “…the arm itself is fine. It’s just my shoulder.”

Fai’s gaze grows sad in that way it always does at the mention of Kurogane’s pain. The faintest flicker of guilt resurfaces in his eyes, and Kurogane knows from late-night conversations even more honest than this one that Fai’s guilt is only compounded by him experiencing it at _all_. Fai swears he no longer regrets Kurogane keeping him alive and saving him from Celes, but Kurogane knows Fai regrets the cost.

“Kuro-sama,” Fai murmurs once the guilt in his eyes has melted into unspoken pain that mirrors Kurogane’s. They may be injured in different ways, but the cause is the same and it hurts Fai no less than Kurogane. “Come here.”

Fai extends a hand to touch Kurogane’s upper arm, and Kurogane allows himself to be drawn in close as he leans back. Kurogane closes his eyes as he lies down again, his head coming to rest in Fai’s lap. Fai’s soft hands close over his cheeks, and his touch might not erase the pain, but it helps it to fade into the backdrop. Fai’s thumbs play in small, soothing circles on his temples, and Kurogane forces himself to loosen his vice-like grip on Fai’s shoulder. He drops his hand and curls his fingers loosely around Fai’s narrow wrist instead.

“Wouldn’t your shoulder hurt less if you weren’t wearing your prosthesis all the time?” Fai asks. His voice is as soft as his hands as they massage over Kurogane’s skin and up into his hair.

“…probably.” Breathing is still difficult; speaking interrupts the careful pattern of inhales and exhales Kurogane has formed.

“Then why don’t you take it _off_?” Fai presses.

“…don’t want to.” If Kurogane were anyone else, saying that would make him sound petulant. Because it’s him, the words just sound world-weary and resigned. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter.” Kurogane can hear Fai’s frown. “You can’t tell _me_ to take care of myself then let yourself be in this much pain.”

“It’s fine—”

“It’s _not_.” Fai sighs, the sound frustrated. “At least tell me _why_ you won’t take it off.”

Kurogane doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to say anything at all, really. Fai’s hands feel nice on his skin, nice enough that Kurogane can _almost_ forget the pain and fall back asleep. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. He wants to have two arms again. He wants to be out of _pain_.

His silence is only increasing _Fai’s_ pain, though. Kurogane draws in too-steady breaths, and Fai draws conclusions, erroneous and accurate alike. As long as Kurogane doesn’t answer, Fai is left to fill in the gaps himself and invent his own reasons—not only to explain Kurogane’s refusal to remove his prosthetic arm but also to explain Kurogane’s refusal to tell him _why_.

“Kuro—”

“It makes me feel defenseless.”

Kurogane is quiet. Fai’s fingers still momentarily. Fai is silent for a long while before finally saying, “You’re the strongest person I know, with or without two arms.”

“I’m stronger with two.”

“Not right now, you’re not,” Fai points out as his fingers return to their slow, sweeping motion. “You keep waking up in pain. I don’t remember the last time you slept through a whole night. Do you?”

Kurogane doesn’t respond. He doesn’t remember either.

“At least take it off when you go to bed,” Fai suggests. Kurogane shakes his head slightly, and Fai sighs once more at his stubbornness. “You need to _sleep_. You can be defenseless right now. No one is going to hurt us.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Kurogane mumbles, but the excuse sounds lame even to him. Fai has a point. Without sleep, Kurogane has been less focused in fights and has taken more risks. His body bears still-healing bruises from their last battle, all from blows he _should_ have avoided with ease. He’s exhausted, he’s grouchy, and he _aches_ for sleep, almost as solidly as the scars ache in his shoulder.

Kurogane wants to sleep. He isn’t sure it’s worth removing his arm.

Fai’s touch disappears from his head. Kurogane opens his eyes to see Fai gazing down at him, his smile sad. “You don’t have to always be strong,” Fai murmurs. Kurogane glances down to see that Fai’s hand is resting lightly on the prosthetic arm. “You can be defenseless sometimes. I’ll be okay. _You’ll_ be okay.” Fai spreads his fingers where the artificial limb meets Kurogane’s skin, his touch bridging the gap between numbness and pain. “Let me be there for _you_ for once.”

Kurogane steels himself. He closes his eyes, and he nods.

Fai doesn’t speak; he watches silently as Kurogane sits back up. Slowly, carefully, Kurogane closes his hand around his upper arm and twists. He hears a click, and the fingers of the prosthetic limb stop moving in response to his thoughts, lying motionless and still. The cords that connect the prosthesis to his body snake back into the arm, and Kurogane tosses it onto the ground away from him before he can change his mind and reattach it.

He feels better immediately.

His shoulder is swollen, the scars worn raw from the prosthesis biting into his skin, scabbed and dotted with fresh blood. It still hurts, just like Tomoyo told him it would, and having only one arm is disorienting. But it feels _better_. Without the prosthetic limb weighing him down and pulling at his muscles and bones, his shoulder is able to breathe again.

 _Kurogane_ is able to breathe again. He no longer feels like he’s drowning; the initial flood of panic as his strength is reduced carries him along rather than pulling him under. He drags his gaze from his shoulder up to Fai’s face to see that Fai’s smile has grown lighter along with Kurogane’s body. Fai almost looks _proud_.

“Come on,” Fai says softly, reaching out to pull Kurogane in close. Fai kisses him, and Kurogane lifts his hand to touch Fai’s cheek, lingering even after Fai pulls away. He doesn’t have another arm to wrap around him, but Fai doesn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Tucked into Fai’s warm embrace, Kurogane doesn’t feel so defenseless after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally project onto Kurogane but BOY WHEN I DO...
> 
> written for whump bingo: breathing hard to concentrate through the pain


End file.
